Locked Up
by afterthebattle
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Hermione Granger is forced to solve it. Dramione. Deathly Hallows AU.
1. The Problem

_Hello guys. This is my first attempt at translating one of my long fanfics into English. I haven't even finished the Danish version yet, but I've plotted the story and I intend on completing it at some point in 2013. It's probably evil to tease you with the first chapter like this, but I would really like some feedback on the story. _

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"I think she's waking up."

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes. A dull pain gnawed at the back of her neck as if she had been lying in an unnatural pose for far too long. Light and shadow blurred together in a foggy mass in front of her and made it impossible for her to focus on the surroundings. Moving her head, she felt a piercing headache throb against the inside of her skull. A small, throaty sound of complaint eased from her lips.

"Father, she's conscious now."

She shifted a little, rolling to the left, getting some motion into her stiff body. It occurred to her that she was lying on a mattress. An old, ill-smelling mattress with creaking springs underneath the shabby upholstery, but a mattress none the less. Better than lying on the ground, at least.

But where was she?

She turned her head, rubbing the corner of her eyes, hoping that the world around her would soon return to its former state of sharpness. She sensed two people moving somewhere nearby, but it was impossible for her to tell who they were. After a couple of minutes the hazy veil that covered her sight started to dissolve and the outlines of their bodies became sharper. They moved closer and now she was finally able to see their faces.

Pale, cold faces.

Her head jerked upwards when she recognized them, sending a wave of dizziness through her. Not caring about the nauseating feeling she crawled backwards on the bumpy mattress until her back hit a solid stonewall. Instinctively she reached for her wand, but found nothing. Her hands fumbled over her trouser pockets in a desperate search for her weapon, her heart sinking in her chest when she realized they were empty.

"It pleases me that you have decided to join us, Miss Granger." The low, refined drawl of Lucius Malfoy. She looked at the Pureblood wizard. His grey eyes were narrow. Snake-like. She moved her glance to the person next to him. Draco Malfoy's eyes were burning with hate. A stark contrast to his father's cool and calculating stare. The intensity made her look away and she turned her attention back to the oldest of the two.

"Where am I?" she asked.

As she had expected she received no reply. Her eyes darted from one wizard to the other.

"Give me back my wand," she said, her voice quivering. "If you're going to kill me the least you can do is give me a chance to defend myself."

There was a snort. Hermione blinked and looked at Lucius Malfoy. A hoarse laughter, that didn't fit his aristocratic attitude at all, escaped him. It wasn't until now that she noticed his racked appearance. His face was sunken and more pointed than usual. The skin had an unhealthy tone to it and seemed almost transparent at some places, making the dark half-circles under his eyes stand out even more.

"Even in a situation like this you insist on clinging to the foolish notion of your own dignity," he said. "Believe me, Miss Granger, if it were our intention to kill you we would have done so already."

He observed her silently for a moment before turning to his son. "Draco, I would like to have a conversation with Miss Granger in private. Leave us."

The boy frowned.

"But Father, I –" he began.

"Do as I say."

It was evident from Dracos expression that he hadn't expected this kind of treatment. Small, pink spots appeared on his cheeks. He bowed his head with a reluctant movement before turning around and leaving the room. Hermione followed him with her eyes, watching him as he closed the door behind him. Where did the door lead? Out into a corridor? Where was she, anyway? She could be anywhere right now, although she suspected she was still in England. And she had no idea how she had gotten here. Well, she thought, Malfoy must have brought her here. But why?

Looking from left to right she took in the room around her. Except for the bed she was sitting on the only piece of furniture was a bookcase. A couple of worn books were placed sporadically on its shelves. There were no windows, no natural light. The only source of illumination was a naked light bulb in the ceiling which bathed the walls around her in a cold, white glow. She got the impression that the stonewalls were leaning inwards. It made her chest contract momentarily, and she had to take a deep breath, shivering uncontrollably.

It looked like a place where prisoners were kept.

Malfoy drew his wand. Her stomach knotted itself in fear while she stared at the weapon in his hand. Much to her relief he relaxed his arm, letting it fall down the side of his body. It didn't seem like he intended on cursing her. He probably only pulled out his wand in an attempt to scare her. If that was the case, then it worked. She pressed herself against the cool wall behind her, her heart galloping painfully behind her ribs.

Why was he just standing there, looking at her? Was he actually planning on cursing her? His silence was unbearable. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. If he wasn't going to say anything she might as well be the one to speak. She lifted her head slightly and tried to look just a bit brave.

"Where am I?" she asked for the second time.

"You are in a basement room in an underground section of Malfoy Manor."

She was surprised when he answered her question in such a direct manner. Hoping that this would continue she followed her question with another.

"What do you want with me?"

A tiny smile crept onto Malfoy's lips, but it was without any sort of joy, just cold bitterness in the hard edges around his mouth. This time he didn't answer. His face was a mask set in stone.

"Tell me!" She slammed her fist into the mattress, the fabric making her knuckles itch. Her voice sounded more shrill that she had expected. "If you aren't going to kill me then why did you bring me here?"

Malfoy sighed. All of a sudden he looked like a tired, old man and not the cold-blooded Death-Eater she knew he was.

"Miss Granger, what is the last thing, you remember?" he asked.

She tried to recall what had happened, sitting impossibly still on the bed while the memories came flowing back to her. In the beginning it wasn't more that short glimpses twirling together in a confusing mix of impressions. _Stomping feet, piercing screams and … thunder?_ She shook her head. No, it had been explosions. _Explosions that had made the ground beneath her shake. Flickering blasts of light had shot past her, missing her only by a few inches. _

Her breath came in short gasps as the course of events became clear to her. In order to focus on something else she looked at Malfoy.

"Harry and I were in Godric's Hollow," she whispered. "We were attacked."

Malfoy nodded heavily as if she were telling him the answer to an absurdly easy question.

She tried to remember what else had happened. Harry and her had thought they were safe. They had been on their way to the cemetery when the Death-Eaters had arrived. There had been four of them. Dolohov, Rowle, Avery and –

Her eyes widened. "You were there too!"

"Correct, Miss Granger. I didn't fight you, however."

She blinked a couple of times, trying to remember. No, he was right. She hadn't had the opportunity to hex him. He had been busy fighting ...

_Ron._

The memory of her friend made her gasp. He had come to their rescue. She had been disarmed and Avery had been about to hit her with the Cruciatus Curse when her red-haired friend had appeared, roaring into the night, throwing himself at the dark wizard. He had saved her. She had sought cover behind the brick wall of a small house. That was the last thing she remembered before a crack of pain had hit her in the back of her head and everything turned black.

But –

"Ron. What happened to Ron?" she asked, fixing Malfoy with an anxious stare. _Oh God, if anything had happened to Ron she would never forgive herself._

"After his stupid display of heroics the freckled fool managed to escape. Although Rowle made sure it wasn't painless."

She drew a breath of relief, but almost didn't have time to feel happy on Ron's behalf before the next worry hit her like a punch in the face.

"What about ..."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He had guessed her question before it had even left her mouth. "Potter escaped too."

She cheered inwardly. They were alive! They had escaped the attack. As long as they were free it didn't mean anything that she was trapped in here. They still had a shot at destroying Voldemort's horcruxes, and that meant that the war wasn't lost. _There was still hope_.

Apparently Malfoy noticed the joy spreading on her face because he pointed his wand at her.

"Don't you dare."

Fear forced the corners of her mouth down. Malfoy's lips curled a bit, but his face remained joyless.

"There is no reason to smile. The Dark Lord was furious when he heard. We were all punished for the failure. I most of all since I had already disappointed him earlier." He paused, staring gloomily into the air. After some seconds his distant gaze hardened, becoming focused once more.

"But _I _got what I wanted from the attack."

_What he wanted? _She almost couldn't grasp the meaning of his words.

"But why … why would you want _me_?" she asked. "I thought the Death-Eater's only chased us in order to kill us."

"We do. And I would kill you right now if I didn't need you."

Undisguised hate seeped into his eyes and she didn't doubt for a moment that he meant it. Pushing herself backwards, she felt the hard stonewall pressing against her trembling back. An evil smile appeared on Malfoy's face. The sick bastard _enjoyed _how scared she was. She knew she should be brave and force herself to stop shaking, but she was locked inside a room with an armed man who hated her more than anything else in the world. And she wasn't able to defend herself in any way. How could she stop shaking in a situation like that?

But she had to try. She was a _Gryffindor_. The thought surged through her, filling her with warm pride. She straightened her back, pushing herself away from the wall so she sat on the edge of the bed. Malfoy seemed to register the sudden change in her attitude. The smile vanished from his face.

"Allow me to correct my former sentence," he continued. "_My son _needs you, Miss Granger. You see, he –"

She blinked. _What? _What on earth was going on?

"Why would Dr –"

Pain whipped across her face, leaving a searing trail under her left cheekbone. A yell escaped her and she cupped her cheek, scrambling away from Malfoy, crouching against the wall once again. Malfoy lowered his wand, a satisfied smirk playing on his face.

_So much for being brave._

"Do not interrupt me, Miss Granger," he said. "Keep your mouth shut until I have finished talking. And in the future I would appreciate if you didn't refer to my son by his first name. You aren't worthy of it, seeing as you are a Muggle."

"I'm not a Muggle," she whispered, so quietly that she doubted Malfoy even heard it. A stinging burn spread across her right cheek, confirming that the words hadn't escaped his attention.

She lifted her eyes up to look at him. He stared back at her, raising a brow as if daring her to display more rebellious tendencies. She cursed inwardly, grinding her teeth together. It wasn't worth it. She decided to remain silent unless he asked her for something.

Malfoy smiled coldly.

"As I was saying … my son happens to be in a very unlucky position. I have no doubt that you remember the attack on the Weasley's home some months ago?"

She nodded this time, not even thinking about answering him verbally.

The attack that had ruined Bill and Fleur's wedding party. It had been the beginning of a month-long existence in chaos for Ron, Harry and her. They had been thrown into their search for hocruxes without having any time to prepare. Well, she had been prepared anyway, but they could have done so much more if only they'd gotten to spend a few more days at the Burrow.

She had no idea what had happened to most of the guests at the wedding after they had left the place. The uncertainty, which she had been able to suppress for months, returned and filled her stomach with ice.

"Draco was one of the Death-Eater's who was sent out to capture Potter," Malfoy explained. "During the attack he fought Arthur Weasley's spawn."

Hermione almost wanted to ask who it had been, but Malfoy sent her a sharp, warning look and she clamped her mouth shut.

"His opponents met their match, although it was two against one."

Two? Realization jolted through her. It must have been –

"Oh yes, Miss Granger, as you seem to have figured out it was the twins. Like the cowards they were they decided to fight together."

That didn't surprise her. Fred and George were always together. It was only natural for them to fight side by side as well. That didn't make them cowards! Malfoy raised a brow, observing the flash of anger in her eyes, but she dropped her gaze quickly, not wanting to provoke him further. After a few moments of silence he continued.

"At some point my son was struck by an unknown spell."

"There are no 'unknown spells'. There are only spells whose origin and impact are difficult to trace."

She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. In less than a second a whip-like streak exploded across her left cheek, making her whimper. She really should learn to keep her mouth shut. But for a few seconds it had seemed like she was back in class at Hogwarts, desperately wanting to provide her teacher with the right answer.

Malfoy looked at her, his eyes blazing. His breath was heavy, anger making a thick vein in his temple pulsate furiously. "I am sure the spell is unknown because its effect has never been documented before. I have personally gone through countless wizarding archives in order to trace it. Without. Any. Result."

He seemed to become aware of the intensity of his rage, running a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "But your stance on the matter informs me that I was right to bring you here. If there is a way to break the spell I am sure you will be able to find it."

He was calm again. Hermione hesitated, licking her dry lips slowly. "But what … what happened?" she asked shakily. "What did the spell do?"

Malfoys mouth thinned out, setting into a tight line, but he didn't raise his wand like she halfway expected him to. His hands were shaking. They were clenched into tense fists, knuckles whitening. His eyes were on the floor, burning against the hard tiles. It wouldn't have surprised her if smoke had started erupting from the stone. When he lifted his gaze she couldn't help but wince from the frustration and anger seething in his grey eyes.

"It rendered him unable to perform magic."

The words were uttered in a muffled, reluctant growl, but they rang loudly through Hermione's head. Her mouth fell open, but for once she didn't have anything to say. She just sat there, gawking.

_Draco Malfoy had lost his magic powers._

She flicked her eyes up to look at Lucius Malfoy. Judging from his expression he was still furious, but now she knew that the anger wasn't directed at her.

"Are you saying that he ..." she mumbled, still not believing it, "that he has become a … a ..."

Malfoy's wand slashed through the air, coming to an abrupt halt a few inches from her face. "Say it, _ just say the word, Mudblood,_ and I'll make sure that you'll never be able to speak again," he hissed.

She felt the cool wood press into her forehead. Her heart jumped up into her throat, blocking her airways. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering with fear. After what seemed like an eternity Malfoy finally removed his wand.

_A Squib. _Draco Malfoy had become a Squib.

She opened her eyes, swallowing.

"And now … after … after what's happened to him," she said, carefully measuring her words, "you want … you want me to lift the spell that hit him?"

"Exactly."

"Why do you want _me _to do it? Why can't you get one of Vold –" she stopped herself, "one of the people from your own side to do it?"

A hollow laugh fell out his mouth. She didn't like the sound.

"Oh you stupid girl. Don't you see?" He shook his head, looking at her with an almost manic expression. "Do you really think I could tell anybody in my circle of acquaintances about what happened to my son? Do you have any idea what a disgrace it would be to my family? Besides, if The Dark Lord learns of what has happened to my son he would kill him in an instant." He stepped closer, looming over the bed. Terrified she pressed herself against the cold stonewall. "Nobody must know that this has happened!"

He was way too close to her. Small drops of saliva flew out his mouth, hitting her chin. She almost didn't dare to breathe.

"Both of you have been placed in a part of Malfoy Manor that even the Dark Lord does not know about. My wife and I are the only ones who are aware that you are staying here. The outside world believes you to be dead. And there are rumours that Draco has been captured by the Order. You and him will remain in this place until _you_, Miss Granger, solve the problem."

The mattress shifted when he removed himself from it, allowing her to breathe once again. She felt tears well up into her eyes. The hate sizzling in his voice was more intimidating than anything she had experienced so far. But she refused to act like a frightened little school girl. She blinked angrily, forcing the warm drops away until they were nothing more than a burning sensation behind her eyelids. She waited for a long while before she had gathered courage enough to speak.

"And what if I refuse?"

Before she could make any sense of what happened, Malfoy had grabbed her by the throat, slamming her head back against the wall. Her skull collided with the stone, reducing her field of vision to a smear of red and black.

"Maybe there has been a misunderstanding, Mudblood," he hissed into her ear, tightening his grip. Naked horror squeezed her insides as she squirmed against him. "I am not giving you a _choice_. I don't care how long it takes. You _will _find a way to lift the spell or else I will personally make sure to torture you until you can't remember your own name. Understand?"

Fear and lack of air crushed down on her lungs, and a gurgling sound emerged from her closed throat. Malfoy loosened his fingers a little and she pressed her answer out through her lips, fighting to breathe:

"Ye … yes."

He released her. She coughed wildly, clutching uselessly at her sore throat. For the first time since she got here tears started streaming down her face. But she didn't care. She was alone and scared. And she had no choice but to do what Malfoy said. The man was desperate to do whatever it took in order to save his son and the honour of his family.

When her breathing had returned to a somewhat normal pattern, she titled her head upwards, looking at him. His breath was heavy, but except from that his face had become unreadable once more. Removing the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her hand she wondered how he could look so calm after what he had just done to her. She stifled a sob, cursing herself for being so weak.

"Good," Malfoy muttered darkly.

She tried to clear her thoughts, to get an overview of the situation. Lucius and Draco Malfoy needed her help. She wasn't going to get out of here unless she found a way to 'cure' Draco. And even then, who said they would let her go?

Her stomach churned with hopelessness. No. She didn't want to think about that right now. If she allowed herself to panic she would lose her mind in no time. She needed to keep her head.

She looked at Malfoy.

"But ..." she began, almost whispering.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

" … How can you expect me to come up with a counter-spell to a phenomenon that nobody has ever seen before?"

An impatient sigh. Once again her attention was drawn to the deep lines in his face. "To help you I have provided you with some books about spells and counter-curses I found when researching the matter myself. They may be relevant for your project."

Hermione frowned, looking at the bookcase at the other end of the room. Malfoy followed her gaze.

"The books aren't in here, Miss Granger. This is just _one_ of the rooms in the hidden part of Malfoy Manor. You and Draco will have five rooms at your disposal, one of them being a library which I have set up on the occasion of your arrival. But I am sure Draco will show you around sometime tomorrow."

He took a step back from the bed. "As much as it pains me, I have to leave," he said, turning away from her. His cloak brushed against his ankles, the distinguished silver embroidery glittering in the harsh light above them.

"We can't have the Dark Lord wondering about my whereabouts." He moved towards the door. "A house-elf will bring you food three times a day," he said, pushing the door handle down. "Enjoy yourself."

He strode out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Hermione was alone in the empty room. She sat on the bed, curling in on herself. A faint ringing filled her ears, probably a side effect from her head smashing against stone some minutes ago, and she pressed her palms against her temples in an attempt to make the sound disappear. Tears fell out of her eyes, running down her cheeks, but she barely noticed them. Some of the salty drops gathered at the point of her chin, others continued onwards, slipping in a warm path down her neck.

_Her neck._

Softly she touched the aching spots on her neck where Malfoy had grabbed her. Soon, bruises would start showing there, oblong marks in blue and black stretching horribly across her skin. A sudden sob made her body shake violently. She wished she could stop crying. The tearful moans only made the inside of her throat hurt even more.

She brought her hand to her face, tracing the burns on her cheeks with her fingertips. They were still stinging.

_Would there be marks after those as well?_

She hated herself for thinking like that. It was so stupid and shallow. Things like that didn't matter now. It was not like anybody had the opportunity to look at her, anyway. Except for Draco Malfoy.

The realization that she was probably going to spend months with that foul little ferret as her only companion made her want to scream, but she held herself back, not wanting to add to the pain thumping thickly in her throat.

She looked at the closed door. As far as she knew it wasn't locked. She hadn't heard Malfoy mutter a Colloportus charm when leaving. But she couldn't find the energy to move across the room and push the door handle down. What good would it do? Either she would find out that the door was locked and probably panic because she couldn't get out. Or she would discover that it was open and go outside where she would be forced to face Draco Malfoy. And that was the last thing she needed right now.

Her eyes fell on a woollen blanket lying at the end of the bed. She caught a corner of it between her fingers, pulling it towards her, until it covered her tired body. It was full of dark stains and made her skin itch, but she snorted indifferently as she wrapped the fabric even tighter around herself. She looked for a pillow then, but found nothing.

Of course not. It would be ridiculous to think that she could find something like that in here. Although Draco Malfoy and his sadistic father needed her help they didn't intend on making her stay in this horrible place the least bit comfortable.

She laid down on the bed, looking up into the ceiling. Maybe she should turn off the light, but she couldn't seem to get up. Instead she turned over, her stare meeting the hard stonewall.

Lucius Malfoy's voice resonated in her head, like a nagging echo.

_Enjoy yourself._

She cried for a couple of minutes before a troubled sleep eventually washed over her.

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_So, what do you think? Was it good? Bad? – (constructive and **respectful** criticism is always nice) – Should I continue translating?_


	2. The Lock

_I want to thank my beta Blonde Pickle Mule for helping me with the chapter._

_Enjoy, everyone :)_

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He could hear her crying. Long, convulsive sobs cut like a knife through the darkness around him, slashing through his brain. He closed his eyes, pretending to ignore the sound, but it didn't work no matter how hard he tried. Her sounds of misery echoed through his head and he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

It was impossible for him to sleep like this!

Draco snorted. Was sleep really that important to him when it came down to it? He didn't even need to be rested. The last couple of months he'd had nothing to do. Slowly but surely his limbs had become sore and stiff, seeing as his only occupation had been sitting around. His movements lacked the sharpness they'd possessed before he'd been brought here. It frustrated him endlessly.

He was used to being physically active. He and his father used to duel for the sake of training whenever he was back from Hogwarts, and in the summer holidays he and the other Death-Eaters had chased Aurors, which had meant pushing himself to his limits. One single mistake could cost him his life in a situation like that, so he'd made sure to always keep in shape. Even at Hogwarts he'd gone for a run once in a while, and he'd played Quidditch.

_Quidditch_. The game seemed worlds away right now.

A low, joyless chuckle left his lips, melting into his black surroundings. He had difficulty comprehending the fact that the battle for the Quidditch cup had once occupied his mind to the point of obsession. His life had been so simple back then. He had been stupid and ignorant, living an untroubled existence, occasionally getting lost in of the glorious visions of the Pureblood ideology. It wasn't until his sixth year at Hogwarts that he had begun to understand what the new social structure actually entailed. The seriousness of the situation had hit him hard and brutally, and he had spent most of the year planning his assassination attempts on Dumbledore.

Which had all failed.

He gritted his teeth. The mission had hung like a thick, dark cloud over his head all year. And then when he had finally had the opportunity to get the job done, he hadn't been able to do it. Dumbledore hadbeen standing right in front of him, completely defenceless, and still he hadn't been able to see it through. It had been impossible for him to say the curse which would make the light disappear from the old man's eyes. But he couldn't find the words; they had locked themselves in his throat.

He had betrayed his duties that night, letting down himself and his family. After Snape had stepped in and done the deed, he'd sworn that he'd never allow something like that to happen again. He refused to disgrace himself and his family even further, promising to restore their honour no matter the cost.

Then the war had broken out and changed everything.

Now he was lying here, unable to do anything. Completely useless because of two idiots who probably had no idea what they had done to him. Time dragged horribly, and to his everlasting frustration he couldn't do anything to contribute to the war taking place somewhere above. He just prayed that no harm would come to his parents, who were constantly exposed to battles. The fear that something might happen to them seemed almost suffocating at times.

All his little worries in the past were nothing compared to his current problems.

Sighing in exasperation he turned over on the bed. He hated the listlessness that had seeped into every part of his body.

But it wasn't just his movements that had become slow and inaccurate over time; his thoughts suffered as well, and he had trouble concentrating for long periods of time. In the days just after his arrival he had tried to keep his mind sharp by devoting some attention to the books his father had gathered in the small library, opening one of the thick volumes. It had been impossible for him to focus. His head had been too heavy and drowsy, the ink letters dancing tauntingly in front of him as he stared at the contents of the pages. Boiling with anger he'd hurled the book across the room.

Then he'd started counting bricks. He'd counted every single one in the wall he faced when sitting on his bed. Twice. The outcome hadn't been the same so he'd counted them again, just to kill time.

But it wasn't just the seconds, ticking away at a snail's pace that bothered him. There was the silence, too. It was driving him insane. Several times he'd caught himself muttering out into the air just to drive it away. He remembered the stories he'd heard when he was younger, about wizards gone mad from spending decades in complete isolation, locked away in a damp dungeon. That was centuries ago. And still, he could imagine it very clearly, wasting away like that. Maybe the same would happen to him. A picture flashed through his head: of himself sitting in the hidden basement, old and mad, reduced to nothing more than a shell of his former self. That seemed to be his destiny. Except …

Except now he had gotten company.

_Granger._

He stared into the wall. He could hear her on the other side of it, snivelling like a child. Usually he slipped into the dark covers of sleep to escape the reality of his current situation, but that was impossible right now. For once he would've preferred the silence. He would've preferred anything to her hiccoughing sobs. Placing his pillow over his ears, he squeezed, attempting to muffle the sounds. It didn't help. He could still hear her just as loudly as before.

She was so incredibly _pathetic_.

He had spent months in this place without breaking down like that. He refused to bow to that kind of self-pity. But she was already so weak, blubbering into her mattress only a few hours after her arrival. He wondered what his father had told her … maybe that was the catalyst for her ceaseless bawling.

Muggles really didn't possess the slightest bit of mental discipline.

He wasn't surprised that his father had succeeded in catching her so quickly. His lips twisted into a proud smile. His father's skills surpassed most wizards' – there was no doubt about that. He had been feared and respected by the other Death-Eaters before that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries, where he had fought Potter and his brainless companions. The Dark Lord had never forgiven him after that. Draco's insides burned with aimless resentment, remembering how his father had been humiliated after escaping from Azkaban.

He balled his hands into tight fists, swearing for the hundredth time to make everything right again once he got out of this painful situation. He would personally catch Potter and hand him over to the Dark Lord. His Master would reward him, and his family would regain its former glory. Everything would be as before. Better, even.

But right now there was nothing he could do. He was useless. And he would never be able to measure up to his father's standards if they didn't find a way to lift this bloody curse. Granger would start working tomorrow, and he would keep a close eye on her. Oh yes, he would make sure that the disgusting little Mudblood worked as hard as possible.

Her crying still hadn't stopped.

Oh, fuck, it was driving him insane!

He rose from the bed, gripping a blanket and a pillow. He had to find another place to sleep. It had to be possible to find a place where her sounds wouldn't reach him. Swiftly he walked across the room, stepping out into the corridor. He looked at the door leading to her room. A cold, yellow glow crept out through the crack underneath it and he wondered why she hadn't turned off the light.

Draco spent some time wandering around the small basement, coming to the conclusion that, wherever he was, he couldn't escape Granger's sobs. He wanted to yell, to kick the wall. Maybe physical pain would block out the unbearable sound. Drawing his leg back he prepared to smash his feet into the hard stone, but just before he did so he realized that the sound had stopped.

Finally. Merciful silence filled the air around him and he almost couldn't believe it. He waited for a while, holding his breath. The crying had ceased completely. She had probably fallen asleep. For the first time in months the silence seemed to have a calming effect on him. It wrapped itself around him like a thick blanket, making him sleepy. The absence of Granger's voice made him indescribably happy.

But then again, that didn't surprise him - it'd always annoyed him whenever she opened her mouth.

He returned to his room, throwing himself down on the soft bed. Finally sleep was a possibility. It occurred to him that he would need to be rested for once, in order to face Granger.

He could imagine that it would cost him a lot of energy.

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Draco opened his eyes. He looked around the room, his gaze still blurred by the hazy remains of a dream. The first thing he noticed was the silence. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the lack of sound. Thank Salazar. Granger apparently didn't intend on continuing her miserable sobbing throughout the early morning hours.

_If _it was morning, he reminded himself.

He had lost all sense of time. Why hadn't his parents given him a watch? Maybe he should ask them for one next time one of them came to visit. Sighing softly he sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes to remove the sand that had collected in the corners. Then he pushed himself away from the wall, jumping off the bed in a strange fit of energy.

After getting dressed Draco left the room, stepping out into the corridor. Granger was nowhere to be seen. He walked down the corridor until he reached the small kitchen at the end. The room almost didn't deserve the title of 'kitchen', containing only a table, a sink, two chairs and a cupboard. The latter was filled with a small selection of food, stocked there in case his parents should be prevented from bringing him anything to eat.

Two plates were placed on the table, one of them already empty. Only a couple of crumbs spotted the white china.

It appeared that Granger had already eaten.

He stepped closer to the table, pulling one of the chairs out from underneath it. He fixed the food on his plate with an uninterested gaze. A slice of bread and a red apple. The food in this dungeon didn't vary much. He shrugged. At least he got a piece of fruit for once. Grabbing the apple, he lifted it to his mouth, but froze suddenly, before he managed to sink his teeth into it. He looked over the soft curve of the apple, his eyes landing on _her _plate.

She had eaten from it. The mere thought of it sickened him. A Mudblood had been here, sitting in the exact same place as him, consuming a meal. He wrinkled his nose. He had to do something about the plate before he could focus on eating anything himself. With an irritated hiss he got up from the chair. Why wasn't the bitch capable of cleaning up her own mess?

He grimaced, gripping the edge of her plate and then carrying it to the sink, putting it down as quickly as he could without breaking it. Draco turned on the taps, letting the water pour over the porcelain and his own hands as well. Frowning hard he rubbed a piece of soap between his palms. _Repulsive_, he thought, shaking his hands under the jet of water one last time.

_Absolutely repulsive._

At least it didn't look like she'd touched his food. But you never knew when it came to Muggles. They were greedy little creatures. He wouldn't be surprised if she had torn off a lump of his bread while he was sleeping. If he found out she had as much as brushed his food with her dirty fingers he would vomit right where he stood even though his stomach was empty, he was sure of it. He held the slice of bread up into the air, studying it intensely, and it seemed to be intact. A sigh of relief escaped him and at last he started to eat.

After swallowing the last bite he went looking for Granger. He went first to her room, pushing the door open with a tentative motion, but it was empty. She had to be in the library. He turned around, walking to the entrance of the room only a few feet away. Slowly he pushed the cool iron handle down, letting the door glide open as silently as possible. He peeked into the room.

Granger was sitting in front of a desk on which a pile of yellow parchment was placed, and she was absorbed in a book. Of course she was. A satisfied smirk made his lips curl. That's what she'd been ordered to do – find a solution to his problem. Her untamed mane of frizzy hair fell down her shoulders, covering her face, and her nose was almost touching the pages as she read, her head moving slightly up and down. She hadn't heard him open the door.

Draco entered the room, approaching her carefully.

"Good morning, Granger."

She jumped in her chair, her head whipping up. Her confused stare soon turned hard, flashing with barely contained anger.

"Good morning," she replied, coldly.

"Are you making progress?"

The question made her snort. "I started two hours ago."

"So what?" He moved a little closer. "Aren't you always boasting about your unlimited knowledge, eager to prove that you are the so called 'best student in our year'?"

"I don't _boast_, Malfoy," she said, returning her attention to the book in front of her. "I leave that kind of behaviour to people like you."

Now he was the one that snorted.

"So, raising your hand before the teacher hasn't even finished the question isn't considered 'boasting'?"

She sighed heavily, closing the book, but he noticed that she had put her finger between two of the pages. She looked at him.

"I don't want to discuss something like that with you. It's ridiculous. Actually, I don't want to discuss _anything_ with you."

Draco knew she was right. It was ridiculous discussing insignificant school matters right now, but he didn't care. Provoking her felt great. It allowed him to channel just a tiny fraction of the frustration weighing down on him constantly.

"Believe me, I have absolutely no wish to talk to you either," he snarled.

"What are you doing here, then? Why don't you just get out of here and leave me in peace so I'll be able to concentrate?"

He smiled coldly. "I just wanted to make sure that you were doing your job."

"And now that you've seen that that is the case nothing is stopping you from leaving."

"There is something incredibly satisfying about seeing you like this. Working for us, I mean," he continued, pretending not to hear her. "This is how society should work." He saw her hands tighten around the book, her nails digging into the cover. "You are a Muggle, it's only natural for you to obey us. I'm glad you've finally accepted that."

A loud thump shot through the air as Granger closed the book once again. She turned her head to stare at him, her eyes seething with anger.

"It's not something I have accepted, Malfoy, you know that. I don't have a _choice._"

He nodded. "Exactly how it should be. It's a misunderstanding that you Muggles have any other choice but to obey _us._ It's nothing but silly propaganda spread by Mudblood scum like you, and the worst thing about it is that the world has actually begun believing your laughable ideas."

"Maybe that's because they _aren't _laughable."

He almost rolled his eyes at that. "Oh, but they are. You're nothing more than a bunch of freaks. Putting your kind on the same footing as usmeans disturbing the natural order of the world."

"No, it doesn't," she maintained stubbornly. "And you'd be able to see that if you weren't so blinded by your fanatical notion of 'pure blood'. You can't judge people according to their parentage, it makes no sense."

Draco couldn't believe her arrogance. It made his blood boil. He stepped closer, slamming his palms down on the top of the desk. She jerked backwards, and for a second she looked almost frightened, but then the expression fell away and her face turned into a hard mask.

"Of course it does," he hissed. "A person's blood-status determines whether or not you have the right to perform magic. To deny a fact like that is to ignore all the rules of the wizarding world which, clearly, is what your kind did when you came marching in pretending to be our equals. The biggest mistake ever made was opening our society to freaks like you."

He pulled his hands back just in time to avoid getting his fingers squashed before the book smashed down into the desk with an ear-splitting crack. He barely registered that Granger had gotten up from her chair, the movement was so sudden. Her eyes were blazing with resentment.

"I refuse to discuss this with you."

He smiled, raising his chin. "Run out of arguments, Granger?"

The girl seemed to regain her composure, slowly settling down into her chair again. "I could give you lots of reasons, Malfoy," she said. "And unlike _your_ ideology, my beliefs are built on solid arguments, not brainwashing through countless generations. I just don't wish to discuss my opinions with you, seeing as logical reasoning seems to be lost on you."

A cross between a laugh and a snort flew out his mouth. "You're calling _your _line of reasoning 'logical'?"

Granger smiled bitterly, opening up the book again. "Like I said, I don't want to discuss this further. It's clearly beyond your comprehension."

Anger surged through him like an electric current. _How dare she_? She was nothing more than a Mudblood. How _dare_ she suggest that he was inferior to her? His body was shaking with fury. The filthy little Muggle, deluding herself that she was better than him. He clenched his fist until his bones started aching, looking at her with a stare of red-hot anger.

She didn't even blink.

"The longer you decide to distract me like this, the longer it'll be before I find a solution to your problem," she said calmly. "I'm going to work now, and I don't care if you stay as long as you keep your mouth shut."

He gritted his teeth with such force that he could feel a stretching sensation at the back of his head. Without saying a word he turned around and started walking towards the door. _Fucking bitch_. He tried making as much noise as possible, throwing himself down onto a chair placed next to the door frame, but Granger didn't move a muscle. Utterly infuriated, he gripped the arm of the chair, clutching at the wood until his knuckles turned white.

Silence spread in the air between them, and Draco studied her profile. She was already absorbed in the book again. How could it be so easy for her to ignore him? Couldn't she feel his stare, boring into her? He was sitting there, his insides melting with anger, while she kept her eyes on the book, completely unaffected. Somehow it didn't seem fair.

She leaned forwards a little, frowning slightly. He saw her brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and suddenly noticed something new. She had a tiny scar on her left cheek. He had been so lost in their discussion some minutes ago that he hadn't seen it until now. He shifted in his chair.

"What is that?"

She turned her head, sending him an annoyed look. "What?"

To his surprise he saw an identical red mark on her other cheek. They hadn't been there when she arrived so they had to be a result of something that'd happened yesterday evening.

"The scars on your face," he said, nodding at her. "How did you get them?"

"Ask your precious father next time he comes to visit," she muttered under her breath.

Ah. So it _was_ his father's work, as he'd suspected. He couldn't help smirking. His father had most likely made the haughty little cow show some respect for once. He kept his eyes on her, tilting his head to the side.

"Are you afraid of him?"

A couple of seconds passed. Granger turned her head, looking at him, probably considering whether to answer his question or not.

"He has a wand and I don't," she said. "Of course I'm afraid of him."

His lips twisted. "That's really brave, Granger."

"And I suppose _you_ would be braver if you were in my position, is that what you're saying? Somehow I have trouble believing that. I can't remember you ever showing the slightest bit of courage. You've always hidden behind Crabbe and Goyle."

He leapt out off the chair. "Shut your –"

But she continued. "And whenever you found yourself in a dangerous situation you always behaved like a pathetic child. I remember our third year when Buckbeak kicked you; you were howling for _hours_."

Draco pressed his lips together, recalling the experience. If only that retarded half-giant had been able to keep his pet under control …

"That was a long time ago," he snarled.

It was true. It seemed like eons had passed since he had been rolling on the ground at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, his bleeding arm hurting unbearably. So much had happened since then. She had no idea what he had gone through, what he'd seen in the long summer months he had spent among the Death-Eaters.

Granger lifted her head. "You've behaved like a coward for your whole life, Malfoy. The only time you actually risked something was when you tried to kill Dumbledore, and even _then_ you weren't brave enough to do it yourself – "

_Enough._

Fury jolted through him with such a force that his vision blackened.

"Shut your mouth!"

In less than a second he was next to her grabbing her by the arm, pulling her away from the desk. She stumbled as he dragged her, trying to escape, but he pulled her across the room, throwing her out into the corridor. She fell through the door frame, putting her hands up just in time to ward off the blow when she hit the wall. She tried to run but he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her up against the hard stone. He might not be able to use magic, but he was still stronger than her.

"You fucking little Mudblood _bitch_! You have no _idea_ what I've been through!"

His fingers dug into her shoulders and for the first time he saw real fear seeping into her eyes. He tightened his grip, forcing a whimpering sound from her lips. Oh yes, she was afraid of him now. He could feel her body trembling against his own.

"How do you think it feels to know that you have to kill another human being?" he hissed into her face. "How do you think it feels to know that if you don't succeed, _you_ will be the one to get killed, hm?"

She looked at him, eyes wide. It was clear that she had no reply to offer.

"Don't you dare try to judge me like that when you have no idea of the pressure I lived under for most of that year, understand?" Draco's stare drilled itself deeply into her frightened eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, the word barely audible. She nodded her head in small, quick movements, and he saw her lower lip tremble slightly. Letting go of her shoulders he pushed her into her room, anger still pulsating through him. She spun around, staring confusedly at him, opening her mouth. Without giving her a chance to speak he slammed the door shut.

He started fumbling through his pockets. After a few seconds he finally found what he was looking for. A cool metal object brushed against his fingertips. Pulling the key the out of his pocket, he pushed it into the lock and turned until a low clicking sound informed him that Granger wouldn't be able to leave the room. Silently thanking his father for giving him a key, he turned away from the door.

He rubbed his temples, trying to calm down after his violent fit of anger. That infernal Mudblood got on his nerves in a way nobody had ever done before, with possibly the exception of Potter. No, he thought, she was even _worse_. He had always felt in control when it came to Potter. The 'almighty' Chosen One had always been so easy to upset, flaring up at even the smallest comment. But Granger was different; her collected demeanour made him crazy.

And sadly, he couldn't keep her locked inside her room forever.

_Fuck_.

No matter how much it pained him he needed her help, and he had to come to terms with daily life in her company. They had to live side by side for an infinite amount of time. He rested his forehead against the cold wall and tried to press the thought far, far back into his mind.

Sweet Salazar, he longed for the day when this would be over and they could finally get rid of her.


End file.
